


You're a Hard Soul to Save

by Xyriath



Category: Avengers Academy, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), New Warriors
Genre: Angst, Continuity? What continuity?, Kinda, M/M, more like a trainwreck, things that are decidedly not happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reasons it might be a bad idea to jump into a relationship right after a psychologically traumatic experience 101.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Hard Soul to Save

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Subtle_Salieri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Salieri/gifts).



> Takes place sometime during pre-Avengers Academy up to issue 13, right before Fear Itself.

It was all supposed to be okay now.  Supposed to have been better, fixed, _right._

 

But of course not.  Vance knew better.

 

That's not to say that it was all horrible—no, superficially, things seemed to be all right, more or less.  Robbie was back, Robbie was teaching, Robbie was teaching with _him_ and getting along well enough with the kids.  As well enough as anyone got along with them, anyway.

 

But there was more to it than that.

 

* * *

 

It had happened rather unexpectedly, a sudden moment between victory celebrations and hospitals and serious meetings and recruitment shpiels from Hank Pym.  Vance knew why it had, though.

 

He had seen Robbie standing there, a tentative smile on his face.  It wasn't quite the beam he remembered, but it was closer than he had ever dared hope he was ever going to see again.  It was Robbie's _face_ , which was something Vance hadn't dared hope he was ever going to see again.  But he was in his costume, his _real_ one, not the hideous contraption that was Penance.

 

"So, how do I look, Justice?"

 

He was still smiling, but Vance could see the hesitance behind it, the not-so-hidden-fear in Robbie's eyes.  With a twist of his stomach, he realized that this must be the first time in the Speedball costume since…

 

"You look great."  He tried to stop his voice from wavering and was mostly successful.  There was a flash of relief in Robbie's eyes, but then a flicker of uncertainty.  Vance wanted that gone.  Because he meant it.  _More_ than meant it.  More than words or declarations or speeches could say.  And so he found himself with his hands on Robbie's upper arms, and Robbie's hands lifting to rest on Vance's, and then they slid down his arms, squeezing for a moment, and then Vance's arms were around Robbie's waist and Robbie's were around Vance's neck, and Vance suddenly realized that they were _kissing_ , with a tenderness that Vance remembered from back when they were kids and a touch of desperation that was new and just a little bitter.

 

They separated after several—not enough—minutes.  Vance's smile was sheepish, almost shy, but Robbie was beaming and breathless.

 

"That good, huh?"

 

Vance had just laughed and tugged him forward again.

 

* * *

 

He knew everything wouldn't go back to normal immediately.  Hadn't expected it to.  Was all right with it.  It didn't stop him from _wanting_ things to be better, but more for Robbie's sake than his own.  He thought he had been ready for it.  _Had_ been ready for most of it.

 

They kept it quiet, low-pressure.  It was at Robbie's request, to take things slowly, and Vance suspected it was as much Robbie not being ready himself to define what they were as it was not being ready for the expectations everyone _else_ had for a person in a relationship.

 

Vance was okay with this; he understood and that wasn't the part that concerned him.  He _tried_ not to pressure him, tried to keep his distance when needed and be aware of when he was and wasn't wanted, but lately the latter seemed to have become the near-constant case.  And it was difficult, when every attempt at a comforting arm around a waist or even a touch on the shoulder was met with tense muscles and sometimes a subtle shift in the opposite direction, not to bite his lip out of frustration with his own uselessness.  There was something about standing there, watching someone so important struggle like that and being able to do absolutely nothing, that made him want to scream.  Not at Robbie—never at Robbie—but at the sick, awful unfairness of it all.

 

He did, however, stay in Vance's room most nights.  It wasn't as illicit as it sounded.  Vance had no idea when he would even think to bring _that_ up, but he knew it wouldn't be for a while.  A long while.

 

Most nights, when Robbie woke gasping or sobbed in his sleep, Vance folded him into his arms, tangling their legs and lacing their fingers together.  And Robbie would let him, sometimes, shaking and breathing heavily.  It was something, a small thing, that he could do.

 

But he wouldn't look at him.

 

He'd lean into Vance's touch, sigh as his fingers traced up over the backs of Robbie's scarred hands and arms, to the skin on his shoulders with the raised marks that always, on some level of consciousness, broke his heart when he felt them.

 

But he wouldn't look at Vance.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't always a major issue.  He didn't often have issues making eye contact in everyday situations—a conversation about the kids or training methods or Jacosta.  But anything else, anything about the two of them or, god forbid, Robbie _himself_ , and not only would he stop looking at Vance, but the entire conversation would shut down.

 

* * *

 

It was a spur of the moment comment.  The staff was enjoying a rare moment of downtime.  Vance and Robbie had been on a relatively safe topic, reminiscing about their old, classic days.  It was a small triumph in itself, on the list of things that they _could_ talk about again without it being sharply painful.

 

Vance laughed.  "Yeah, the outfits were ridiculous.  But I liked yours."

 

A smirk that was desperately trying not to turn into a laugh.  "Liar."

 

"No, no!  Honest to god truth.  But then again, I _was_ a teenager, and it gave me a nice view."  He smirked at Robbie's raised eyebrow.  "Still does."

 

Robbie's laugh was innocuous, but Vance picked up on the forced nature of it, hidden well but not well enough.  And then he was looking away again, focusing intently on Hank and Tigra, all the way on the other side of the room, the smile as brief as it was insincere.

 

Vance chewed on his lip for the briefest of moments, coming up with a course of action and deciding on it in approximately the same amount of time.

 

"Robbie, what's wrong?"

 

 _That_ got his attention.  His head turned back, expression careful.  Almost wary.  "What?  Nothin'."

 

"That's not—You're acting like there is.  I mean, it seems like it.  It's hard to talk to you.  Sometimes."  About anything important.  About us.  About _you._   "You won't _look_ at me—"

 

"I'm looking at you right now."

 

Vance pressed his lips together at the petulant remark and expression, trying not to let his exasperation get the better of him.  "That's not what I'm talking about."

 

Robbie just sighed, looking away again—then pushed his chair back and stood.  "Look, Hank wanted me."  He turned to walk away.  "Wanted to talk about—"

 

Vance reached out to take his arm midstep, cutting him off midsentence.  The pause was accompanied by a jump and a flinch, and Vance quickly released him, suddenly concerned.  He hadn't grabbed him _that_ hard, had he?  But Robbie didn’t look angry, so Vance just figured that he had startled him.

 

"Robbie—look.  If you need to talk—no."  He didn't want an "if."  "I want to _help._   Do whatever I can.  I'm… I'm worried about you."

 

Robbie withdrew his arm, shaking his head.  "Like I said.  I'm fine.  Just been busy.  A little worn out.  Makes me quieter."  Without waiting for a response, he turned and headed purposefully in Hank's direction, ignoring Vance's call for him.  The call did, however, attract Hank and Tigra's attention, and they turned to Robbie, offering him a smile.

 

Robbie just smiled back, looking almost at-ease, so much like his old, approachable self.

 

Yet, Vance had never felt a more solid glass wall between the two of them.

 

* * *

 

Robbie didn't come by his room that night.

 

* * *

 

They seemed to be all right after a couple of days, but there was never a verbal reconciliation.  Vance just didn't bring it up again, and the days turned to weeks with nothing new for the telling.

 

* * *

 

The dance was a success.  Vance was fully convinced that letting Robbie DJ was an absolutely brilliant idea, and while he should have kept an eye on the students, more often than not he found himself watching, a smile that was maybe a little silly on his face.  Robbie was happy, laughing, bantering—like he should have been.  Like he always did.

 

_It's only when it's the two of you—_

 

Vance quickly shoved _that_ thought away.

 

Because it was fun.  Great.  Even with awkward ex-girlfriends around.  They even seemed to get along.  Until they didn't.  Or, rather, one of them didn't get along with him.  But then she did, kind of, and it all turned out all right, didn't it?

 

Of course, then came the after.

 

Cleanup was much easier than it would have been with no powers, but it was still fairly late by the time he and Robbie began meandering back to Vance's room.

 

It was Robbie that spoke up first.

 

"Suzy's nice."

 

Vance shot a funny glance in his direction.  "Yeah, she is."  She had the advantage of not having hit him this evening, at least.

 

"You two used to…"

 

Definitely wasn't keen on where this was going.  "Used to.  But we're not anymore.  We're just… we're not."  There was really too much to specify, so Vance hoped that "not" would be enough of a clarification.

 

"You could, though.  You two were… you liked each other, right?"

 

Vance stopped in the middle of the hall, turning to stare at Robbie.  "Did.  As in at one point.  But no.  I could, but I don't want to."

 

"I—I'm just sayin'.  She's got a lot going for her, yeah?  And she seems to still like you.  And I know Angie got mad over it, but…"  He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably, and eyed the floor very determinedly.  Vance bit his lip, crossing his arms at the discomfort.  The topic of sex was one of many unspoken subjects between them that remained that way, but they could tell when it was on both of their minds.

 

Vance took a deep breath.  "Look, Robbie."  He uncrossed his arms, taking the few steps to bridge the gap between them, and took Robbie's hands.  "I told you.  We're not.  Not going to be.  And I don't want to be.  Not with her."  He ran his thumbs over the backs of Robbie's hands.  "I want to be with you.  Not Suzy.  However that means, whatever we do—or don't do."  His hands moved to Robbie's waist.  "Because you're the important one here."  He leaned in, intending to kiss Robbie, mind working, wondering if he had the guts to say it.  _Because I—_

 

But there was that familiar tension beneath his hands again, and Robbie was pulling back, lips pressed together tightly.  Vance closed his eyes for the briefest of moments, wondering how such a happy evening has turned to churning worry in his stomach, and let go, stepping back.

 

"I don't—"  Robbie stepped back as well, running both hands through his hair.  "I—we—I can't."

 

"Can't what?"  The pain in Vance's stomach wouldn't go away.

 

"I just… I can't.  I'm sorry.  Not… not right now.  Not like this."

 

"Not—what do you mean?"  There was no pain there now, only cold.  He thought that he preferred the former.

 

"I need—I can't do this right now.  Please."  Robbie's voice broke on the last word, and he finally— _finally­_ ­—looked up at Vance.  Vance almost wished that he hadn't.  He _knew_ Robbie, knew what he was seeing.  He saw a desperation there, a fear, a _pleading_ for Vance to understand.  And, possibly worst of all, he saw a Robbie that cared about Vance just as much as Vance cared about him.  Robbie took a deep breath.  "I need—I just need a break, okay?"

 

"Look, Robbie, if you—we can work this out.  Talk.  Talk to someone else.  I know it's rough, but I want—"

 

"I don't need to talk.  I just need… space, okay?"  He winced a little, probably at how trite the line was, but shook his head anyway.  "I'll… I'll talk to you later, okay?" he asked softly.  Before Vance could respond, he had taken off, away from Vance.

 

"Robbie.  _Robbie!_ "

 

But he ignored him, vanishing around a corner.

 

And Vance just watched him go, the frustration and sorrow and _grief_ welling up in his chest.  Because he wanted to help.  He wanted to make everything better, do something.  Anything.  Anything at all.

 

But there was nothing.


End file.
